Salt Air, Castles, & Gits
by AriadneCarter
Summary: Adriana Brooks loves to sketch. She lives for it honestly, and one morning she finds herself in a position she never expected. Adri's been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry and her life changes forever. Follow along as a girl from the seaside makes her journey through apparently seven years of torture with one infamous and infuriating James Sirius Potter.


I've always loved the salty air of the sea in late summer. It was fresh and carried a sense of new beginnings with it. In the early morning of the day my life changed forever, I was sketching the Ferris wheel at the end of Brighton Pier, like I'd done a million times before. The markings on the page were all bent and wobbly and generally hideous all around, and with each stroke I was getting more and more frustrated. Having no idea why my skills weren't coming as naturally as they usually do, I eventually huffed a sigh of defeat and tossed the wretched paper into the water below. To my astonishment, it flew right back up into my hand and after a few attempts of hurling it back downwards it wouldn't budge. Ultimately annoyed and tired of throwing the bloody thing I jumped on my periwinkle bicycle and headed home with the most horrid scowl gracing my lips.

As I turned into our little drive on Bevendean Road, my elder sister Gracie sat on the steps waiting for my arrival and smirked at the sight of my expression. "What's wrong this time, pet? Have you snapped a pencil?" she inquired. I sent her a withering look and ignored her presence and to my satisfaction she looked a bit put out. "Oh don't be a ninny Adri! I was just taking the mickey. Now what's wrong little one?" Her mother hen tendencies brought a smile to my face, I knew she couldn't help but coddle our younger siblings and myself. I proceeded to tell her of my atrocious morning and she herself looked as puzzled as I felt. "Maybe you've just imagined it, aggravation can bring those sorts of images to mind I expect." she offered. "I suppose you're right," I agreed. However, I couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardly being aware that the event wasn't an overactive imagination and truly was a real life occurrence. I didn't push the subject due to not wanting to continue on in such a strange conversation and kept my thoughts to myself. I reminisced on other weird instances when I had done something rather odd in a fit of rage or sadness. One time on the seashore, Gracie and I had been mucking around and she had been tugging on my pigtails, (I'd only been six or seven at the time and she nine or ten) and sisters do quarrel often, I'd screamed and pouted as she did so and in my distress a great big, cold wave had come barreling over and knocked Gracie down, sending a rushing chill down her spine. I'd laughed then delighted that my sister had gotten what she deserved while she glared at my smugness. Puzzled as to why this memory had erupted in my mind, I quickly cast it away as I sent my sister a strained smile.

As we both headed inside, as Gracie had just returned from getting a few groceries for breakfast, the sounds of my younger brothers running amuck inside greeted us. Little Jack and Will were currently racing around our periwinkle-walled living room chasing one another wearing their Iron Man and Captain America costumes exclaiming their intentions to hunt one Loki, otherwise known as Dad, down and eat him for breakfast. My sister and I exchanged a coy look as I hollered, "Oi! The eggs aren't going to cook themselves boys! I highly doubt that you want to eat Dad, he wouldn't taste any good! Go on and wash up while Gracie and I make some eggs and toast. Scrambled alright with you lot?" The twins nodded their heads vigorously and scrambled their way up to the toilet to wash their hands. Chuckling, my sister and I set to work on that morning's meal for our family.

As the boys ascended the stairs, mum descended and shot me a grin. She hauled Dad up off the ground where he hadn't moved, and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Hello dear, girls. How have your mornings been? Not too crazy I hope?" she asked. Dad instantly shot into how the boys had swarmed him once he had come down the stairs for a cuppa, and had continued to drag him into a full-fledged battle. Dad was the Norse mythology professor at the University in town, which lead to him and the twins having a soft spot for the American Avengers and insisted on parading around in their costumes for as long as possible. Mum laughed with a kind smile on her face and retorted, "Oh Isaac you love playing Loki and you know it!" Gracie and I shared a knowing look and attempted to keep in our giggles.

Once breakfast was finished and we'd all sat down at our petite wooden table, we all shared our own stories of the morning. The boys claimed to have defeated Loki, for the first time without Thor, who happened to be Mum due to her lovely blond hair, while Dad tried to redeem himself in Mum's eyes. She grinned a large, toothy grin of utter happiness and continued to take the mickey of Dad and exclaiming, "Oh how the mighty have fallen!" We all laughed at their antics, and I spoke up about my strange morning. "I went down to the Pier again this morning, Mum. Couldn't manage to sketch anything good though. And the most peculiar thing occurred as well, I was frustrated with myself and tried to toss the horrid paper into the water but it wouldn't stay! I tried again and again but nothing I did would make it sink as it kept popping right back up. I'll tell you it was strange as could be." Mum pondered what I'd said, and had opened her mouth to reply, when an unmistakable knock sounded at the front door.

Gracie stood to answer it and called out that it must be the mailman, however when she opened the door, another peculiar sight enthralled us. Standing at the threshold was an unbelievably short man with round spectacles and a large white mustache. His size was not the only odd thing about him, as his clothes seemed to be from another time. He donned a set of deep green robes and a pleasant pointy looking hat and smiled as brightly as one could at ten in the morning.

He spoke out in a cheerful tone, "Is this the residence of one Miss Adriana Brooks?" After I had finished my gawking at the tiny man, I tripped my way up to the door and hesitantly spoke, "That's me sir, sorry to sound rude, but why do you ask?" "Oh dear, well Miss Brooks, I'm here to inform you of your acceptance to Hogwarts, a special institution for one as special as you. Might we and your parents speak privately about this matter?" he replied warmly. I stood stiff as a board but nodded jerkily as Mum and Dad scooted the twins and Gracie up to their respective rooms.

Once we were awkwardly settled in with petite cups of tea still warm from breakfast, the little man introduced himself as one Filius Flitwick, Master of Charms at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dad looked befuddled as if trying to figure out where the name Filius originated, while Mum seemed to come to a slow realization. She smiled knowingly at me as if I knew anything about some school for witches and wizards. I myself was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. I'd always known I was a bit different, not being an overachiever in school as that was Gracie's area of expertise. I'd never given it much thought though, she loved her schoolbooks and I love my football and bicycle. It had never been a problem until now. What if I'd never enjoyed school or excelled at it because I _was_ different? Would I be any good at magical subjects? I certainly hoped so, if not what an embarrassment that would be, the _muggleborn _girl not knowing anything. At least I thought the word was muggle, I wasn't too sure and voiced my concern to the Mr. Flitwick. He stumbled over his words as he vigorously assured me that my status as a muggleborn was no hindrance to my education at Hogwarts. I sighed in relief and thought on my happening this morning down at the Pier. Could _I_ have done that? Kept myself from throwing away one of my own pieces of art? As my brain quickly began reeling with this new information, I beamed. I had done magic! Just as I had on the seashore with Gracie all those years ago, and at insignificant intervals throughout my life that began emerging from the depths of my mind. I had done _magic_.

In my overwhelming need to know anything and everything about the Wizarding World I continued to press Professor (as he insisted on being called) Flitwick about every subject under the moon that was concerned with magic and my education at Hogwarts. He replied just as excitedly to my questions as I was asking them. He explained how a train in London would cart me away to Hogwarts, a gigantic castle with secret rooms and passageways, where I would learn to hone my magical abilities. Professor Flitwick linked our fireplace of all things, to a Shoo Network of some sorts to allow us access to Diagon Alley, a wizarding shopping center in London where I would find all of the materials I would require for my first year at Hogwarts. Dad was slowly catching on and Mum was also hanging on every word the Professor said as he explained the way the Wizarding World worked from flying brooms, to dragons, and the Ministry of Magic itself. I was ready to jump on the Hogwarts Express and begin my journey right then and there. And to think I had started the morning off so terribly.


End file.
